Best Laid Plans (5 page)

By the time I’ve lit all the table
candles, the first of the guests arrive. Almost everyone is an employee of
Jackson’s, so the dress is business attire. I guess Hunter Enterprises doesn’t
have casual Friday. I make sure that there is someone at the bar, and I alert
the chef to start the first wave of passed hors
d’oeuvres
.

Bryan and Monica arrive
together. He’s as tall as Jackson, but leaner. He has more of a runner’s build
compared to Jackson’s solid, imposing body. And then there’s the puppy dog energy.
I hope Bryan’s impatience doesn’t make Jackson suspicious.

“We only have to be here
until seven-thirty, right?” His tone tells me he thinks that’s an eternity.

“That’s for your guests. This
will probably go until eight.”

He looks crestfallen. “That’s
two
hours.”

“I know. It will fly by,
believe me. And remember, it’s a secret.”

I look to Monica,
imploringly. Monica is even prettier than her pictures, and standing next to
Bryan, you can see what a cute couple they make. She has a solid, dependable
vibe about her. Monica will make sure they get where they are supposed to be,
and Bryan will make sure they have fun when they get there. Hopefully, she can
keep him distracted.

She places her hand on his
arm. “You haven’t told me about Italy. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Really?” His tone clearly
communicates he doesn’t understand why
anyone
would want to visit. I
sigh. I bet the Hunter men don’t have one romantic bone between the two of
them.

Suddenly a silence descends
on the room. My back is to the door—not that I need to turn around. “Jackson
must have arrived.”

Bryan tilts his head as he looks
at me. Now I truly see the resemblance to a puppy dog. When Bryan does it, I
want to smile. When Jackson does it, I want to hide.

I turn and see Jackson standing
next to an older woman. She is petite and pretty, and as uncomfortable as I am.
She must be his mother. As I look at her, and then look at Jackson towering
over her, my first thought is
I hope she didn’t have natural childbirth
.

Jackson watches me approach,
and there is a dark, brooding look in his eyes. Did I do something wrong? If he
doesn’t like this, he’s going to hate the party later. His hand goes to the
small of my back as he introduces me. His mother’s name is Margaret, but she
insists I call her Marge. Jackson’s fingers lightly press and dance against the
back of my dress. It’s distracting and confusing—and I enjoy it a little too
much.

My policy has always been to
act like the help and not like a guest. I welcome them and offer to take their
coats. The sooner I can get away from this man, the better. As I attempt to
exit gracefully, Bryan and Monica approach and block my path. There are kisses
and hugs all around—all around Jackson, because he doesn’t join in. Marge
clearly knows Monica. Bryan introduces her to Jackson.

This is my chance to escape. I
wheel my way around Bryan, and come face-to-face with Kyle. I almost didn’t
recognize him with his clothes on. He presses his tray of appetizers toward the
group, cutting off my escape route.

Bryan looks at the selection.
“What are these?”

I asked the caterer if they
could add a quail appetizer at the last minute. I knew it was hopeless, but I
had to try. I picked an appetizer I thought had the best potential to pass for
quail and told the chef to lie. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyle’s eyes lock on me. His
expression clearly communicates that he hasn’t forgiven me for whatever
happened between him and Lois last week. “Quail, I’ve been told.”

Jackson notices the look on
Kyle’s face and takes the first one. He bites into it, chewing ever so slowly. “Quail,
huh?”

“Mmmm.” That’s a nice, non-committal
sound. It’s not a yes, and it’s not a no. It’s just an
Mmmm
.

I can tell Jackson isn’t
fooled. “It tastes like chicken.”

I put on my best smile. “That’s
what I’ve always heard. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on dinner.” Exit,
stage right.

. . .

Dinner is a pleasant affair. The
caterers are perfect and the presentation is delightful. Everyone enjoys
themselves. Well, everyone except the birthday boy. I can tell he’s just
waiting for it to be over. Thankfully, Monica is wonderful—taking his hand,
keeping him distracted.

I head back to the kitchen. I
missed breakfast and lunch (thanks to the quail infestation). Hopefully I can
get something to eat for dinner, but first I need to sit down for a minute. I’ve
been on my feet all day, going nonstop. I pull one of the extra banquet chairs
off the stack and collapse. I think about slipping out of my shoes when the
kitchen door swings open, and Jackson enters. There’s no rest for the wicked, so
I start to stand.

“Don’t get up. You look
tired.”

“Weary. I look weary. Never
tell a woman she looks tired.” I think he’s going to hover over me but he actually
kneels so we are at eye level.

“People don’t often correct
me.”

“That’s a pity. You’ve
probably missed a lot of valuable lessons.” My filter is off. I need to remember
that he’s the client.

“I can think of a few lessons
I’d like to give you. Lessons in being honest, being grateful, being
submissive.”

Submissive? Me? The nerve of
this man. “The best teachers learn from their students. And from my point of
view, I just got the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco down on one knee.”

Jackson gives me a smile. A
very dangerous smile. “That’s because I plan on using the other knee to bend
you over and spank that pretty little ass of yours.”

Is he serious? “As I
remember, you’re the one who said no kink.”

Before he can react, the
servers bring the dinner plates into the kitchen, and we are clearly in their
way. Jackson rises and offers me his hand. Reluctantly, I take it and stand.

“That was an excellent
dinner. I’m glad to know you didn’t spend all that money.” And at that moment,
the walls start to shake.

No matter how I try to manage
things—how many checklists, how much research, and all the disaster recovery plans
I imagine in my head—there is always something I forget. This time it was
soundproofing. The DJ’s subwoofer blasts a bass line with such force it makes
the walls vibrate.

“What is that?” Jackson
exclaims.

“That’s the rest of your
money.” I head out into the dining room and see Bryan’s eyes twinkling like Christmas
lights.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we
have dancing and dessert in the church.”

I walk the twenty guests through
the courtyard and into the rear church entrance. It’s not quite eight o’clock,
but based on the number of people on the dance floor, none of Bryan’s one
hundred and twenty-eight
other
friends are fashionably late.

I text Robert and in a few
seconds, the beam of a spotlight swings to and fro near the entrance, searching
for Bryan. Since the lighting guy doesn’t know who Bryan is, I’m supposed to
stand next to him, and when the light finds me, pull him into the spot. That
plan has one serious flaw, and his name is Jackson.

I’m standing next to Bryan,
waiting for the spotlight to land, and suddenly I’m not. How I got halfway
across the room at the speed of sound is beyond me. All I know is that Jackson
has both of his hands pinning both of my arms, so I’m not getting away.

“Um, Jackson. You need to let
me go. I’m working right now.”

“I don’t remember asking for
this,” he growls.

“You wanted as little
involvement as possible,” I say defensively. “Now, I need to find Bryan.”

“You shouldn’t argue with me
when you wear that dress.”

He is standing so close I can
breathe him in. I never believed in pheromones until now. He smells like
expensive shampoo and a hard day at the office. Maybe it’s because I haven’t
eaten, but he smells delicious.

He raises an eyebrow. Sometimes
I think that man can read my mind.

“You asked me to wear this
dress. Now let me go or you won’t like what’s about to happen.”

His eyes narrow. “And you
really
shouldn’t threaten me…in…that…
dress!
”

They say bad things happen in
threes. And the three things that happened at that moment were Jackson’s lips
crash-landed on mine, the spotlight guy finally found me, and the DJ announced,
“Let’s hear it for the birthday booooyyyyyyy!”

While the crowd cheers,
Jackson jumps back from me, cursing.

I’m madder than I should be,
especially with a client. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it. Now keep your
back to the spotlight and let me fix this.” I signal to the lighting guy to
follow me. While the crowd whistles and laughs, I scurry back to the spot where
I last saw Bryan.

Thankfully he hasn’t moved. With
my best Vanna White gesture, I point to him, and the DJ follows my lead,
announcing, “Sorry, folks. That was just the opening act. Here’s the star of
the show: the birthday boy, Bryaaannnnn!”

All Bryan’s friends explode
with applause and cheers as they surround him. I push my way through the
onslaught, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream. I need to sit down, so I
head for the little room behind the altar. It’s private and hidden. Hopefully,
I’ll get a few moments of peace.

I’m surprised to find Minerva
at the altar, though I shouldn’t be. She arranged for the entertainment. I
shudder a little when I think how Jackson may react to our performers. It’s not
technically kink, but it does involve people hanging from the ceiling. Minerva
is checking the rigging—rather,
was
checking the rigging. Right now she’s
watching the corner of the room Jackson is in.

“Party by the famous Jackson Hunter.
Hmmm.”

I’m curious, so I try to
sound nonchalant. “Oh, you know him?”

“I’ve met plenty of his subs.”

His subs. Of course. A harem
of submissives. That explains why he wanted to spank me. And why Pippa keeps calling
him sir. I want to ask her how many is
plenty
?

“I’d steer clear of him if I
were you,” Minerva warns. She must think that kiss meant something. “He
mindfucks his women. Like an emotional vampire. They give him all their love,
all their trust. He drains them dry. Then loses interest.”

At least I’m not in danger. I
can’t ever see myself trusting that man. Or him trusting me, after this party.

Minerva isn’t done with her
tirade. “I see his women in the clubs. They try to fit in, but they’re like the
walking dead. No one else is good enough for them. He’s heroin with a dick.”

I better cut her off now. It
sounds as though she’s just warming up, and I don’t want to be here all night
listening to her take on Jackson’s shortcomings. I don’t think that man is a
danger to my virtue. Just my sanity.

“Thanks for the warning.” I
head to my hiding place before she can reply.

Slipping inside, I switch on
the light. Only one bulb is working, leaving the back of the room in shadows. I
look around for someplace to sit. There aren’t any chairs, but there is a table
at the back, and I plant myself on it. The walls have no insulation against the
music, so it won’t be quiet, but I’ll get some distance from Jackson.

The two of us have been
battling since we met, and I have to take some responsibility for it. I’ve
judged him for being high-handed and manipulative, and then used the same
behavior planning a secret party with his money.

I owe him an amends. I hate
the thought of giving him one, but I need to keep my side of the street clean. We’re
both strong personalities that just clash. It doesn’t help that I also find him
hotter than a propane tent heater. I think that scares me, and makes me
combative around him.

I’m surprised that he thought
he could punish me by kissing me just now. I might have enjoyed a make-out
session with Jackson. Too bad he’s into kink. That’s probably why he gets sex
and punishment all mixed up in his pretty little head.

My phone buzzes. A text from
Robert. “Where are you?”

I text back, “Behind the altar—hiding
from Jackson.”

He sends a “Stay there”
reply. That’s fine with me. I can stay here all night.

I hear the door open and
close. “I’m back here,” I call out.

Suddenly, Jackson fills the
narrow hallway, blocking my exit. “I know, hiding from me. Robert lent me his
phone.”

Hold on, Jillian, I tell myself. In a few more hours, I won’t
have to deal with this man anymore.

“Does he know he lent it to
you? You have a habit of stealing phones.” I try to sound calm. I don’t
convince myself.

“Add it to my bill,” he purrs,
stepping closer.

“There is a commandment about
stealing, and we are in a church.”

“Oh, I’ve broken so many of
those, what’s one more?” He stops a few feet from me, thankfully. “This is
quite a party. I didn’t know Bryan had so many friends.”

“You’re too modest. You didn’t
even know he had a girlfriend.”

He shakes his head. “Jillian,
you have been teasing me all night. And surprising me. The two things I hate
most.” He moves to the table and puts his hands on the dress shoulders. The way
he’s holding it, you’d think he wanted to rip it off me. “Add to that, all
evening I’ve had to watch you in this dress.”

“The harem uniform?”

“Harem?”

“Well, you had three of them
in different sizes. Four, if you count the one Pippa was in that night. I just
assumed you had women stashed all over the city wearing this dress.”

“I am not interested in a
harem. I prefer to devote myself to one woman.”

“Until you grow tired of her?”
I hope Minerva didn’t tell me that in confidence.

“Oh, you think no woman would
ever leave me?”

If they were smart they
would, but I can see getting stupid for this man. Speaking of stupid, it’s time
to take responsibility for my own actions. “I shouldn’t have hid the party from
you. That was unprofessional. We’ve been butting heads since I took your
picture, even though I realize I was wrong. I don’t know if I ever apologized,
but I am apologizing now. Let me know if you aren’t happy with—”

At that moment, Men at Work
start singing “Who Can It Be Now?” Jackson looks startled.

“It’s Robert’s cell phone.” I
pull it out of his jacket pocket. Just because I’m apologizing for my bad
behavior doesn’t mean I have to put up with his. I answer and it’s the lighting
company verifying the pickup time tonight. I use the phone call as an excuse to
get off the table and put a little distance between the two of us.

When I hang up, I realize
something is peculiar. “You haven’t met Robert. How did you know to borrow
his
phone?”

“I got his name when he
called during our…misunderstanding. And there are plenty of pictures of you two
on Facebook. I thought you were a couple.”

Everybody thinks that. “How
did you get this phone anyway?” I ask, as I slip it into my ditty bag.

“I learned to pick pockets when
I was a boy.”

“Do kleptomaniacs run in your
family?”

“They have to, unless they
want to get caught.” He smiles at his little joke while planting himself in
front of me. “What about you? Would you like to be caught—by me?”

I feel as if I already am. I
also feel as though he’s trying to get me to do something stupid—like kiss him.
“I thought you devoted yourself to one woman. Does Pippa know you’re here?”

He closes his eyes and
smiles. “Oh, that’s why we’re having this big, expensive party. You’re jealous
of Pippa, and you want to teach me a lesson. Well, I have good news for you. Pippa
and I broke up last month.”

Oh, no. That means—in his
office—he was…I can’t think about that right now. “Does she know that?”

“I’ve told her. She thinks
she can win me back by playing to my paternal instincts.”

“That’s not the right way to
play you.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize the blunder.

“And you know the right way
to play me? Maybe you do. You obviously know I like a woman to seduce me.” He
closes the gap between us. I didn’t think there was a gap between us, but he
got closer so there must have been. “You’re all I’ve been thinking of. Do you
know how inconvenient that is?” His hands land on either side of me. I always
feel pinned inside this man’s arms. “Since I broke up with Pippa, I have no
outlet for all of this sexual energy. I’ve been a bear all week at work. So, as
much as I’ve enjoyed your little seduction, it’s time I take back control.”

“You think I’m seducing you?”
Then I remember what I said in his office.

“Oh, yes. You’re quite the
expert. Acting bossy and defiant, and then turning nervous and skittish when I
get this close. Then I touch you, and you’re suddenly so needy and submissive.”

I swallow. “I think you have
me confused with someone else.”

“You’re doing it right now. Your
mind is racing and your breathing is shallow. And I step in, and take you in my
arms, and I bend my head down”—and he does, and he does, and he does, so his
head floats just above mine. His lips are so close—“and you don’t pull back. You
don’t turn away. You want me. And I do like a woman who wants me. More than I
should.”

I suspect he thinks I’m into
kink. I’m sure he got that from Facebook, too. I need to tell him the truth before
we get any further. I’d do that right now if it was just my body that wanted
him, but my mind betrays me. My mind wants to know what it would be like to
kiss this man. It wants to know what passion tastes like. So I do something
stupid. I move my head and put my lips on his. When his tongue finds mine, my
mind turns off, and my body turns on.

His arms wrap around me, and
I can feel the muscles under the expensive suit. I’d love to see him naked, but
settle for rubbing my hands along his hard lines under the soft cloth. His
tongue explores my mouth with sensual intensity, and every stroke and thrust
makes me want to take this further. My hands move to his head and I run my
fingers through his soft, wavy hair. I’ve never felt this much desire for
anyone in my life. I want him—all of him—and I want him now.

His hands move down my dress
and rest at my hips. He grabs a handful of the material in each hand, and the
hem rises. One hand slips down between my legs and traces circles around the outside
of my panties. I need to stop him—but I have an even greater need to find out
where this is headed.

His hand slips inside the
elastic band. One finger entices me: stroking, circling, pressing until it works
its way in.

“My God, you’re already wet
for me.” He turns his finger inside me and positions his thumb where he can
draw slow, lazy circles around my clit. His mouth hovers above me, and I raise
my head to meet his lips. He pulls his head back, out of my reach. I look in
his eyes questioningly, and he lowers his head. I raise my lips and he retreats
again.

I see the smug look I’ve
become accustomed to. He’s teasing me, and the flash of anger I feel gives me the
willpower to break his spell. Before I can move, he slides a second finger into
me, finding that sweet spot inside. My head rolls back, and now his mouth
covers mine. My body responds as intensely as before, but I can’t get the image
of his cocky satisfaction out of my mind. He’s a cold-blooded sexpert.

He lifts his head again, and his
hand continues to stimulate every nerve ending I have between my legs. My knees
feel weak, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Look up, Jillian. I need to
see your face.”

When I raise my head, he puts
his free hand under my chin, and slowly wraps his fingers around my neck. His
gentle grip steadies me, but also works like a brace, keeping my head upright
and locked on his face.

“I need to see how you
respond to me. I need to know just how far I can go.”

His voice is as smooth as a
chocolate fountain, and I instinctively reach my arms out. I don’t know if it’s
to stop him or to feel him, but he gently squeezes my throat.

“Put your arms down. I know
you think I want to be touched, but that’s not what this is about. This is a
sexual position I call 68.” He moves his mouth to my ear. “I do you, and you
owe me one.”

He relaxes his grip on my
throat, as his other hand increases its rhythmic taunting. My knees buckle at
the intensity, but the hand on my throat is immobile. I have to stand straight
or it cuts off my air supply.

“Poor Jillian. You want to
let go, but if you do, you choke yourself. All those sensations, and you can’t give
in. You can’t surrender. You have to keep your precious control around me. How
long can you hold out until you don’t care about breathing? Until you stop
playing your games with me? How long before you—”

“Jillian, are you in here?”

Oh my God, it’s Robert. “Back
here,” I croak.

“Where have you been? I’ve
been looking all over—”

As quickly as Jackson and I
pull apart, Robert is quicker. He looks the two of us over. If he suspects
something, he’s kind enough to keep it to himself.

“I can’t find my cell phone—and
we need to start the birthday toast.”

“Yes, coming.” Robert’s too
smart to be fooled but I decide to put on an empty show anyway. “Robert, I don’t
think you’ve met Mr. Hunter.”

“A pleasure to meet you,”
Robert says, offering his hand.

Jackson holds up his right
arm. “My hand’s wet.”

My face turns cranberry, and
I spin toward Jackson so Robert can’t see. “Thank you for your feedback, Mr. Hunter.
I’ll be sure to keep all of your suggestions in mind.”

Jackson refuses to play
along. “They weren’t suggestions. They were promises.”

It takes all my concentration
to turn around and push Robert toward the door. When I hand him his phone, he gives
me a quizzical look.

“Don’t ask. Would you check
with the caterers about the cake? I’ll find Bryan and then text you.”

Robert heads out the door. I
take a breath, adjust my dress (and everything under it) and follow. I’m only a
few steps over the threshold when a hand on my arm holds me back. I slam into
Jackson.

“I wasn’t done with your
lesson.” His tone has lost the sensual edge, and he sounds annoyed.

Lesson? I don’t want any more
tutoring on that subject. I try to sound calm. “We need to cut the cake now or
the caterers will go into overtime.” He’s as still as a statue, but keeps hold
of my arm in his vise grip.

Since he doesn’t seem
concerned with cost, I change tactics. His mouth has turned Berry Noir, so I
grab a tissue from my ditty bag and hand it to him. “You should wipe the
lipstick off your face.” He just stares at me, silent and still, but lets go of
my arm to retrieve the tissue. I turn and walk away as fast as my shaking knees
can.

Bryan is easy to find—he’s
been standing in plain sight the entire time. Maybe that’s why Jackson was so
still. He doesn’t want his brother to see us together. I suddenly feel like Jackson’s
dirty little secret.

When I reach Bryan, I wrap my
arm through his. “Follow me to the DJ booth. We want you to make a little
speech to thank your guests before we bring the cake out.”

I try to stay half a step in
front of him, so I don’t have to see his eyes on me.

“Are you dating Jackson?”

“Don’t be silly.” I’m sure
Jackson doesn’t date. More likely, he just plunders.

“I saw him kiss you earlier,
and then you both came out of that back room—and I know sex hair when I see it.”

My hand goes instantly to my head.

“Not
your
hair.
Jackson’s.” I realize my little move just confirmed Bryan’s suspicions. “Jillian,
I think you’d be great for my brother. Just—make sure—always be honest with
him.”

“And no surprises?”

Bryan acts contrite. “I was a
little worried about that. But instead he gave you a big kiss!”

There’s how things are, and
there’s how things look. Nobody knows that better than an event planner. Bryan
thinks Jackson is dating me, and I’m thinking it’s more of a personal vendetta.
How did things go so far, so fast?

When we reach the DJ booth, I
text Robert, the lighting guy, and Minerva before I hand Bryan the microphone.

As the DJ finishes his mix, I
push Bryan into the spotlight.

“Thank you all for coming to
my party! As you know, I’ve just spent two weeks in the Italian countryside and
tonight in San Francisco—both thanks to my brother.” Bryan walks back toward
Jackson, and the spotlight follows him. “If there’s one thing I learned in my first
quarter of a century, it’s that family can be annoying, but they can also be
awesome!”

When Bryan reaches his
brother, he gives him a big bear hug. Jackson looks terrified, and the
expression on his face is worth the price of admission. “Let’s give it up for
my bro—Jackson! He’s the guy who’s paying for all this!” Glasses fill the air
and mix with shouts of approval.

Bryan’s friends descend on
the two and slap Jackson on the back. He looks like such a fish out of water
when only five minutes ago he was master of all he could hold—and manhandle.

The house lights dim and
spotlights land on the two large silk banners that flank the DJ booth. The silk
billows and twists, and two aerialists drop from the ceiling into the suspended
fabric. While they climb, wrap, and drop to the strains of a Tchaikovsky piece,
I make a beeline to the pipe and drape. I need to wheel out the cake, sing “Happy
Birthday,” and get the hell out of this place.